How to Train Your Pokémon
by PidgeyLove
Summary: Ash Erable Ketchum lives on the island of Baku, where Pokemon and humans are fiercely divided. A certain Pokemon has been terrorizing his village, and he decides to find and kill it, to prove that he's worthy of becoming a leader. But when he discovers the Pokemon- a brutally injured Greninja- and befriends it, he realizes that Pokemon might not be all as vicious as legend claims.
1. Alone

**Chapter 1**

The breeze whistled sharply as it whirled across the sparkling surface of an ocean. A flock of Wingull shrieked raucously above, diving down into the waves to attack fleeting Wishiwashi beneath. The birds parted in a sloppy arc, revealing a gigantic island rising out of the water. The sea smashed into its rocky cliffs that encircled a large village, the buildings all tightly packed up the hill. Here, humans milled back and forth, talking amiably to one another. Beneath an oak tree just outside of the town, a boy leaned against the trunk and bit thoughtfully into the end of a quill pen. A leather journal was laid across his knees, and the open page stared back at him, completely blank.

He wore long brown pants and a short-sleeved green shirt, which seemed to be slightly tattered at the edges. His tall hiking boots clicked against each other as his legs crossed, and an astoundingly red fur cap was settled on top of his head. Dark black hair fell into his eyes, which were half-closed in tiredness. The boy grunted as he shuffled around a bit, trying to find a comfortable spot amidst the roots of the tree.

The pencil then touched paper, and he began to write, speaking aloud as he scrawled words across the tattered book.

"Dear journal... I saw a Staraptor glaring down at me from a branch earlier. I nearly jumped out of my skin! The two of us met eyes, and I was completely paralyzed with fear. I thought it was going to kill me for sure. Luckily, Dad came by and saved me from a slow and painful death. He shot it with his awesome bow... I saw the arrow go straight through its head and bury itself into a tree behind it. It was a bit gory, but I'm sure glad he did. That was unfortunately the good news- the bad news was that he didn't appreciate me 'wandering around the woods like a hungry Pokemon,' if I quote him right. He practically dragged me back home before chewing me out for a solid half an hour. I barely remember any of his sermon, but I heard the words 'irresponsible' and 'lucky' about a dozen times each. It stinks that I'm not supposed to go out of sight of my house. Sure, my dad is the chief of the whole village and has a lot on his plate, but does that mean he needs to keep me on a leash all the time? I get the whole thing about Pokemon. Those creatures are violent monsters who want to kill everything in sight. But, if I brought a weapon with me, wouldn't I be fine? Oh, nooo! I'm too 'young' to get a weapon yet, he says! Ridiculous. Well, the sun's setting, and I've got to go eat dinner. Bye for now..."

He finished up the paragraph of work with an elegant swirl of letters.

"Ash Erable Ketchum, heir to the island of Baku."

After finishing, he gave a soft sigh and closed the book. He stuck the feather into its binding and stood up, placing the item away into a pack hanging comfortably off of his shoulders. His soft brown eyes gazed fondly over the place he'd lived in his whole life. Sure, it was cooped-up, smelly, and often remodeled, but it was his home. Always would be, even if he somehow managed to move away. He walked into the village, gazing around at the freshly polished wood and newly placed stones that made up the walkways. Everything in his town was new. You seldom found anything older than a few months, and for a rather unfortunate reason, too.

He pushed open the door to his home smack in the center of the village, and the smell of warm soup hit him head-on. Sound nice? Well, his mother's soup was anything but nice. It was usually made up of chunks of Magikarp, moldy vegetables, and a broth consisting of Wishiwashi oils and water. Accompanied by holey bread and a glass of blended fish guts, it made a great meal if you'd been starving in a dungeon for several months.

He couldn't blame Mom for making horrid soup- it was all that was available. The only Pokemon that the villagers were allowed to touch were Magikarp, Feebas, and Wishiwashi, because they were all completely harmless. Other than that, the poorly-guarded fruits and vegetables were all that could be eaten. Only the warriors could do proper hunting- and you had to train for years to become one of those. The Staraptor that Ash's father had killed earlier had been quickly taken away to be prepared. Every scrap of its body was used in one way or another- the inedible bits used as fertilizer, the feathers stuffed into pillows and mattresses, the meat stripped from its body to be eaten, the bones turned into weapons of all shapes and sizes...

"Don't stand in the doorway and let in all of the cold air, silly! Hurry inside- dinner's ready!" the voice of his mother chided in a cheery voice, breaking him from thought. A kind smile crossed his features as he closed the heavy door and slid into his usual place at the table.

"Hey, Mom. Any luck fishing today?" Ash questioned curiously, taking off his pack and setting it under his chair. This was often the first thing he'd ask her after arriving home. He loved to hear her stories about a particularly feisty Magikarp breaking loose, or seeing the flash of a Gyarados in the distance and having to retreat up the slope with the rest of the women. But today, his mother's face only lost its cheer at the mention of fishing.

"Luck's probably the last thing I'd use to describe today. I lost my fishing rod _and_ my basket, which, mind you, had three pretty large Magikarp in it. It'll be awhile before I can have new ones made."

"What happened? Did you just slip?" he asked. She swallowed, pushing a few strands of her auburn hair behind her back.

"No, oddly enough. I was walking along the rocks near the beach when it happened. Some weird shadow in the water below startled me, and I dropped them both as I was walking across the rocks. The fishing rod floated off out of reach, but I saw the basket get yanked under. It was terrifying. Then I saw it pop up again... without any fish. Then it also drifted out of range."

The boy's eyebrows shot up. This was new... his mother was usually so calm and collected in situations like that. He would have expected her to just use a large stick and at least pull the empty basket back or something. He twiddled with his fingers as he spoke again, his face glued to the cracks in the wooden boards of the table.

"That must have been a really big shadow to scare you like that. Do you think it could have been a Gyarados or something?"

His mother's soft, almost crazed laugh startled him. He looked up sharply, seeing her grip a wooden stirring spoon in her hand tighter.

"No, Ash. That was not a simple Gyarados. That thing was a true monster. It took almost all of our baskets, fish, and rods, and still somehow managed to get away with a few other random trinkets as well. That isn't like the Pokemon around here. There are the occasional raids on our village, but those are all in the dead of night when we're off-guard. This one approached us _right out in the open_. Like it wasn't afraid... at all."

"Dad's going to take care of it, right?" he queried, his visage hardening.

"I'm going to tell him about it toni-" his mother began. The door flew open, interrupting her mid-sentence, and Ash's father tromped in noisily.

"What a day! I get bombarded by a group of villagers wanting advice, kill at least a dozen flying Pokemon, drag my disobedient son home," he glared with deep brown eyes at Ash for a moment, "and to top it all off, lose Thunder Blade!"

Both mother and son gasped in shock. The first three things were normal occurrences around Baku, but they were horrified to find out that the chief no longer had his prized weapon- the Thunder Blade.

The Thunder Blade was an axe- a mighty weapon with a stout oak handle and a double-edged iron blade. For the most part, it remained his weapon of choice, only being changed out to receive a quick sharpening or a gloss of its wooden grip. Its edges were tinted yellow, thus earning it the nickname that all Pokemon and villagers alike had come to fear. Nobody knew exactly why it was yellow, though. Some theorized that he had murdered a Zapdos in only one swing, and its bright color had bled into the metal and tainted it. Others thought he polished the iron with the blood of the stars. There were many crazy surmises, but Ash was fairly certain that it was just rust.

Anyhow, this fact was not putting his father in a good mood. Every part of him seemed to bristle with rage as he slumped down into his place at the table, next to Ash. The boy looked away, not quite wanting to stare his father in the eye.

He was an intimidating personage, no doubt about it. His usual attire consisted of a heavy fur cloak wrapped over his shoulder, a chainmail tunic set over a plain green shirt, brownish pants, and fur boots. Around his thick wrists were metal bracelets with a spike poking out of each one, and a bandolier slung around his chest was adorned with all sorts of trinkets, daggers, poisonous bombs, and other frightening materials. His official chief name was Bjark the Fierce, and he certainly deserved the title. Legend said that when he was but a little boy of four, he gouged out both of a rabid Mightyena's eyes with a spoon. Did the village believe it? You bet they did.

Bjark's obsidian black hair was plastered down with sweat, and he groaned in relief at being able to sit down at last. He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the relaxation that he so rarely was allowed to have.

"It was a hard day for all of us, dear. I made your favorite soup!" the boy's mother smiled brightly, ladling the thick substance into wooden bowls. One of them was pushed before Ash along with a spoon, and he made a face. Upon seeing his father's frowning visage, however, he quickly contorted it into a somewhat happy look.

"Ah, wonderful. You truly are an amazing cook, Delia," Bjark bowed his head slightly, before engrossing himself in slurping up the entire bowl in one go. A chuckle escaping her throat, she herself began to spoon the broth into her mouth. Ash swallowed hard and tucked in. Long story short- it was horribly gross. But it was edible, and that alone was enough to make him eat it. Before long, they'd all finished dinner, and the boy felt exhaustion pulling his eyelids down. His mother, Delia, noticed this and immediately took action, scooping him up into her arms. He was about to object, but he decided to let his mother enjoy being able to pick him up for awhile longer. She made her way up the stairs without much trouble, and he wasn't surprised. Ash was terribly skinny for his age, a truly pathetic excuse for an heir to a village throne, especially considering his father was a viking. He felt himself be gently placed into his scratchy cot in the loft, and she then placed a heavy fur blanket over him.

"Thanks, Mom," he finally managed, yawning loudly. Delia chuckled and brushed his hair out of his face. A kiss was planted onto his forehead.

"Of course, my little warrior. I'm going to talk to your father about that monster, now, okay?" she murmured. Then she was gone, clattering down the tiny stairs to the little room below. Despite being the chief, Bjark refused to be treated like a king. He lived in the same houses that the normal villagers lived in- one small room that served as a living room, dining room, and sleeping place for the adults, a small room in the back for a restroom, and a loft that could be used for storage or as a living quarters for a child. In this case, the loft served as both. Weapons and trash were piled all around Ash, and he'd grown used to smelling hay or wood or other unfamiliar things when he went up there. Sometimes a Rattata would scurry by, and he'd immediately stomp on it with his boot or throw a crate on top of it. Then he'd discard the body over by the butcher, who prepared all the hunted Pokemon. It sometimes took days for the air to stop reeking of blood after that- it sickened him quite often.

He felt himself drifting off to sleep, and eventually, he let his dreams carry him off to a world of freedom, where no fathers lurked right over his shoulder and the soup actually tasted decent.

* * *

Two Pidgeys were stomping on Ash's chest. Both of them looked angry and ready to kill him. They pecked and poked at him, digging their claws into his side and shoulder. Their chirps were deafening, and the boy struggled to fend them off. The twitters and cheeps were almost forming words...

 _"Ash! Ash! Wake up!"_

The phrase was continually repeated, and he struggled to say anything or do anything. And all the sudden, he was wide awake, and the terrified face of his mother stared down at him.

"ASH! The alarm's been sounded! GET UP!" she practically roared. With a yelp of horror, Ash felt himself get dragged out of bed and land with a thump. He just managed to yank on his boots before his mother shoved him down the stairs.

"Go! Go! Go!" he could almost hear her heart pounding wildly, and panic forced Ash to speed up. His dulled senses quickly awoke, and adrenaline shot him forward. He slammed open the door and came outside to a world of madness. The huts were aflame, the ground was covered in webs of cracks, and Pokemon were running rampage. A raid! He'd been through at least a dozen, but this was one of the worst he'd ever seen. He jumped back just in time to avoid a searing streak of fire, and upon looking up, he saw a Houndoom staring down from a burning house with murder in its eyes. It tipped back its head and released a lusty howl, and both roars and screeches echoed back from other Pokemon. He looked up, and noticed that his own house was on the verge of breaking down. Fear surged through him. His journal!

Ash ducked past his furious mother and hurried into the burning house without a second thought. Smoke burned his eyes and throat, but he shoved a chair to the ground and grabbed the leather sack containing his precious journal. But when he turned to leave, he saw the doorframe collapse in a burst of embers. Horrified, the boy spun around and ran up into the loft. The boards creaked dangerously beneath him, and fire licked at his boots, but he merely raced across the ground, his focus set on one place- the window in the opposite end. Moonlight streamed through it, teasing him to come closer, and he turned himself to the side and jumped.

His shoulder smashed the precious glass frame in the window, sending shards everywhere. In that moment, Ash thanked Arceus that his house was so small. The loft was only about ten feet up, and so he merely rolled when he hit the ground. Everything stinging painfully, he forced himself to his feet and took off for the one place where the villagers had been trained to go- the vault. It wasn't actually a vault, more of a large hole in the ground, but no Pokemon could get in no matter how hard they tried- the door was iron. He was almost halfway there when the ground exploded beneath him.

He crashed to the ground, feeling his chin smack into the hard cobblestone, and looked up to see an Aggron staring down at him. Its irises were narrowed down to tiny slits, and it growled deeply in its throat.

"H-hi?" Ash smiled stressfully. No such luck- he saw the monster throw back its entire body and come down to crush him. His eyes squeezed shut, and he prepared for death.

* * *

 **NOTE:** _The cover picture is not mine. It belongs rightfully to Kivwolf. :)_


	2. Loss

**Chapter 2**

Ash looked up with a look of terror plastered on his face, seeing the hulking grey frame of the Aggron falling towards him. His eyes closed, and he waited to be splattered across the stones. But that moment didn't come. He heard a cracking noise, and then a deafening screech. Wincing at the ringing in his ears, the boy leapt to his feet and saw the body of the Pokemon sprawled across the cobblestone to his left, a massive axe with a yellow tinge buried into its chest. His breath hitched, knowing who the weapon belonged to.

"Ash, stop messing around, boy! Get to the vault, _NOW_!"

The voice of his father roared out above all the commotion, and that was enough to send him running without a second glance. He bolted in the opposite direction, weaving past various wild Pokemon and struggling to reach the end of town. In the distance, there was a clap of thunder, yet there was no rain. He stumbled again and again, and all the while, he was wondering- had the vault always been so far away?

Eventually, he could see it in the distance, as well as the screaming mass of people struggling to get in. The tunnel was only big enough to fit a single person at once, and Ash realized with a sinking heart that he was never going to get inside. The population had swelled since the last truly dangerous raid about two years ago, and now the cavern under the surface was beginning to get cramped with people.

Though it was dark, the fiery buildings around him reflected the fear in the boy's brown eyes. Now what? The Pokemon would destroy _everything_. Everything! He had only one chance of survival now- hiding out in the surrounding wilderness and praying for the best. He skidded to the left and bolted off towards the forest, gasping for air. He broke into the trees, head swinging from side to side, and continued to flee his home.

Another explosion rocked the ground beneath him, but he stayed upright. On and on he ran, unsure how far away safety was. Branches slapped at his face, his pack dug into his shoulder blades, and roots clawed out at his boots mercilessly, but Ash refused to stumble. When he finally thought he could run no farther, he fell to the ground and let the cold feeling of the soil beneath him slowly numb his exhaustion. He couldn't hear anything at all. No thunderbolts, no screams, not even a chirp. The forest was eerily quiet.

After his breathing had finally returned to a somewhat normal state, the boy forced himself to his feet again. He looked around, and realized he was in a massive clearing. Pine trees, their trunks a deep brown and their leaves forever green, encircled the small meadow he'd come to a stop in- if you could even call it one. The patches of dirt around him alternated between being overly dusty or much too wet, and tiny blades of brown grass poked up here and there. A huge stump, bigger than himself, was positioned right in the middle of the field. The coppery rings in it showed that it had once been a very old tree. Ash swallowed and looked around.

"Is a-anybody here?" he stuttered weakly. Nothing responded but the wind, which whipped the thin branches of the pines around him into a shaking frenzy. He yelped in fear and ducked back down onto the ground. Another five minutes passed before he mustered up the courage to stand up again. He looked around, swallowing hard, and wiped the sweat from his forehead. He tried to calm himself as he searched for a place to bed down for the rest of the night.

"You'll be fine, Ash. You're the son of the fiercest chief to ever rule Baku. You're fine. If anything comes at you, just attack them with your bare hands, like Dad..."

He was interrupted from his own pep talk as a branch cracked somewhere not far off. Shrieking like a dying Mareep, the boy whirled around in the opposite direction and hurried back into the safety of the open meadow. For awhile he stood there, unsure what to do, before he decided to head back to his village instead. A real chief didn't wimp out! The Pokemon would likely still be there, and maybe he could find everyone who wasn't able to get into the vault and bring them here! They could all be safe together until his father declared that he had warded off the beasts.

He made up his mind firmly not to get scared so easily again, and set off the way he'd come. He found his footprints and followed them for awhile, taking care to mark his path as he went. This was something that his father had taught him. Snapping branches on odd trees, making little piles of stones, disturbing bushes... these were all ways to make sure you followed the same path without others catching on. He'd never really gotten the chance to do it before, as he wasn't allowed to go very deep into the woodlands. Ash began to feel a sense of pride at being able to save his fellow villagers. They'd all cheer him on, call him a true heir, and ask him for advice on what to do the next time the Pokemon attacked. And he'd gladly help them. Because that was what a chief did, right? He'd make his father proud.

A boulder flew above the trees, a fiery tail trailing behind it, and he knew that he was getting close to the village again. He remembered how urgent the situation was, and immediately picked up his pace. Before long, he broke into the clearing of the burning town, and saw that people were still struggling to get into the vault. Just as he'd suspected, it was becoming too crowded. Ash should've known something was off- they had all become much quieter, but their shoving had also become twice as violent. But he was too afraid to really notice small details. He just ran towards the massive lump of villagers, waving his arms above his head dramatically.

"Everyone, follow me! There's a place where we can all g-"

In a span of five seconds, Ash watched as a volley of throwing stars, glowing blue with some unknown material, mowed down about two dozen villagers. He stumbled backwards, horrified to hear what the others screamed.

"It's the monster!"

"Let's get out of here- the monster's got us!"

"Run! The monster!"

He remembered his mother saying one thing about a certain Pokemon- it was a monster. His blood chilled, and he looked up in the direction the stars were coming from. What he saw rooted his feet to the floor.

It was perched on a burning hut, a scarf of some sorts flapping in the wind behind it, and a shuriken in one webbed hand. He could just make out the rest of its form- it seemed to resemble a Toxicroak, but with a much more slender body and taller form. Its red eyes flashed in the dark, locking right onto him. He knew he should run, but everything around him seemed fuzzy. All he could see was this strange, bipedal Pokemon. The star in its hand whirled around, and then it was flying through the air- straight for his chest.

"ASH!" his mother screamed, knocking the boy into reality.

He turned his head just in time to see her leap right into the path of the throwing star, arms held out to protect him.

Ash didn't see the shuriken strike her, but he instantly knew from the soft sound in her throat that she'd been hit. His eyes were wide as he watched her sink to the ground.

"M-mom!" he cried out, dropping to his knees and grabbing her by the shoulders. He gasped in helpless horror at the weapon sticking out of her neck. It glowed a soft blue, but its edges were quickly being stained red. Her amber eyes flickered up to him, and a sad smile formed on her face.

"Shame on you, Ash. Didn't I ever teach you about reflexes?"

"Mom, Mom, please don't do this. I'll get the m-medic, I can find Dad, I... don't go!"

He clutched her shoulders tighter, but he knew that the situation was hopeless. Her breathing became slower and slower, and a crowd of villagers began to form around the boy and his dying mother.

"Delia!" his father's voice was next to join the mix of frightened people. Bjark shoved through the crowd, a horrified look on his face. He, too, dropped to his knees and held her in his burly arms.

"Dad, what are we gonna do?" Ash asked helplessly. The man looked down at his son, a black fire raging in his eyes.

"Ash, go."

"I-I can find the medic for you! A-and we can take her down into the vault, where the Pokemon can't-" he tried to continue, but he was once more cut off by his father's furious, deep voice.

"GO! The raid is over. The medic's dead. Almost everyone who didn't make it into the vault is DEAD. And what did you do? You hid out in the woods to save yourself."

Ash crumpled like a scythe taken to a berry crop, being cut down lower and lower with each biting word. He slowly got to his feet, looking down at the still form of his mother.

"I'm sor-"

"I don't want to see you come back here until you prove that you aren't just a measly Caterpie of an heir. Get out of here!"

The words took a moment to sink in, but he quickly realized what his father meant. He wasn't angry or disappointed in him. Bjark was absolutely disgusted by him, and somehow, that felt even worse. He took a few disbelieving steps backwards, and more villagers immediately rushed in to take his place, all shouting out advice and worries. He soon reached the outside of the circle, and stood alone among the ruins. He began to speak, but his voice was barely a whisper among the screams of others.

"I'll come back, Dad. I'll kill that monster and bring you the body. I... I... I can avenge Mom's death. You'll see."

He bent down and picked up a huge shard of glass, about half as long as his arm. He put it away in his limp pack, and ran back off into the wilderness, tears now streaking his face. Every jab of his bag against his shoulders seemed to remind him of what he'd done.

 _You killed her._

 _You killed her._

 _You killed her._

* * *

A Pidgey chirruped in the trees above Ash, and sunlight broke its way into his slumber. He groaned loudly and rolled over, every bone in his body screaming in protest. He mumbled something about monsters to himself, still half-asleep, but snapped awake when something sticky landed on his forehead. His hand reached to his temple, and he wiped the goo off of him. It was bright white, and he realized it was bird poop.

"Oh, come on!" he wiped off his fingers on a nearby leaf, gagging in disgust, and used the frond to get rid of whatever was left. His brown eyes narrowed as he glared up into the trees.

"Jerks," he growled. It was only after he'd calmed down that he remembered what had happened last night. The emotions of sadness and guilt hit him like a pile of bricks, and he gloomily leaned back against the tree he'd been sleeping against. He didn't know how far away he was from the village- farther than he'd ever dared to venture, certainly. And that was probably for the best- Ash knew that his father had turned against him. A sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, he remembered his mother, and how that her death had been caused by his own ignorantness. He hung his head miserably. He'd tried to make his father proud of him, and only succeeded in getting himself driven away. So much for being a real heir.

He sat up and pulled his pack off of his shoulders, setting it in his lap and opening up the leather latch on top. Sifting through his journal and other odds and ends, he yelped as something poked him in the palm. He drew the massive piece of glass out, and grimaced slightly. This was what he would use to kill the beast that had murdered Delia. It wouldn't stand a chance.

He got to his feet, sticking the weapon into his belt, and once more slung the trusty bag over his shoulders. He began to walk in a wide circle towards the south, his intent to bypass the village and reach the sandy beaches where the women fished. That was where his mother had first encountered the monster- and there he intended to find it.

His eyes might not have held as much fury as Bjark's, but one thing was for sure, anger was welling up in him. He might have been frightened before, but Delia's death would change that. He'd show the beasts who a true heir was.

"Watch out, Monster, because I'm coming for you."


	3. Encounter

**Chapter 3**

Claiming that you will kill an elusive monster is one thing- actually carrying out this plan is an entirely different process. Unfortunately, this did not occur to the young Ash as he stomped through the wilderness, slapping aside branches and muttering encouragement to himself. He was so completely wrapped up in his idea that he thought nothing of possible failure.

"When I come home carrying that monster's body, Dad will forgive me, and Mom will be proud of me- up wherever she is now. And then I'll finally be able to prove myself!"

His brave words made him feel a bit better about himself and his feeble accomplishments, and when he finally broke through the trees exactly where he wanted to, he reviewed his plan one last time in a quiet voice.

"Alright, I'm here at the beach. Nobody's here- of course they aren't. They're all picking up after the raid. I'll be alone- and the monster will be caught off-guard. I'll find it fishing or whatever, get up behind it, and stab it in a sensitive spot. Dad always said to go for a Pokemon's neck, the middle of its back, or the eyes. I'll just get it right in the middle of its spine- snap the whole thing in half. It won't even know what hit it. Hmph! So much for being strong, eh, Monster?"

He waved his shard of glass in the air, watching its edge flicker in the sunlight, and beamed brightly. This would be easy! He sheathed it once again and began to climb down the somewhat precarious slope.

He himself had never actually been to the beach, but his mother had described it enough over the years for him to have a good idea of its geography. It was a small beach, positioned about two miles east of his village. The only way you could get down into it was by climbing down the rocky cliffs that surrounded it from all three angles. He slipped a few times, but his boots were a mighty help in this process. He finally leapt off of a tall boulder and landed in the sand, feeling it sink slightly beneath his weight. He glanced down at it, and knelt down to grab a clump of the sand in his hand. It crumbled with pressure, slipping out from between his fingers. Wow. Sand was nice... no wonder Delia always came home cheerful, no matter the outcome of her fishing. The beach was just so relaxing. Ash's face fell at the thought of her. Well, at least, she used to... now she would never come bursting into the kitchen with her smiling face and a Magikarp in either hand, or plant a kiss on his cheek before sitting down to tell her son an exciting fishing story of the day, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling.

A single tear tried to well up in his eye, but he quickly wiped it away and frowned, straightening himself.

"Chiefs don't cry. Now... time to find the monster!"

He pivoted on his heels and stalked down towards one end of the beach. The waves crashed against the shore, and Wingull screeched above him. Other than that, the only noise he could hear was the sound of his boots crunching the sand beneath him. He kept one hand on his weapon of choice and combed the beach for any sign of the Pokemon's presence. Nothing.

Sighing heavily as he reached a wall of solid slate, climbing almost fifty feet up, he turned and made his way towards the other end. He'd find it- he just _knew_ it would be here!

* * *

Ash finally heaved himself up to the top of the cliffside with a sour face, rolling over to catch his breath. He hadn't found a thing. No footprints, no floating baskets, not even an area of disturbed sand. It was like the beast had never been there at all... the thought hit him like a charging Rhyhorn, causing him to sit straight up and gasp in surprise.

What if it hadn't been on the beach at all?

Perhaps it had been chased some other way. Maybe it was hiding in the forest instead- perhaps it had seen him coming and fled! His proud grin returned. Yeah, that made sense. It was cowering down in a hole somewhere, praying to whatever Pokemon god it worshipped that he wouldn't find it.

"Wimp!" he called out, hearing his voice echo across the rocks. He forced himself to his feet and set off into the woods without a further word. He was determined not to stop until the day was over- or until he was standing triumphantly over the dead monster. Preferably the latter, but he wouldn't mind waiting. He wasn't terribly patient unless he put his mind to it- but when he did, he could wait for days upon days for whatever such the thing was.

Before long, he was deep inside the woodlands again. The trees rose up around him, and the twitter of unfamiliar bird Pokemon filled his ears. He breathed in slowly, before letting all his air out in a slow motion. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. It would keep him calm- his mother had taught him the breathing exercises when he was much younger. The memories were fuzzy, but he could faintly recall a smaller version of him sitting in Delia's lap, breathing in time with her on the floor of the loft.

He growled in frustration as another tear attempted to make itself known. He blinked it away. He was fine! Delia would've wanted him to avenge her! There was no reason to sob over it. He'd finally become the son she- Ash glanced up and gasped at what he saw.

A thick area of bushes had been violently uprooted, a pathway ground deep into the dirt that led into foliage too thick for the boy to see into. He frowned and slowly crept forwards. Something poked his leg, and he looked down.

A strange throwing star was embedded halfway into the soil.

He yanked it out, studying the weapon curiously. It had four deadly sharp points to it, and was glowing a soft blue with some unknown material. He tapped it with his other hand, and its shape rippled. His brown eyes widened in surprise. How... strange. He brought it up close to his face.

 _Flash!_

Delia laying in the dirt, eyes half-closed. The shuriken sticking out of her neck.

 _Flash!_

Ash abruptly dropped it and shook his head. He had no reason to keep it- and besides, bad memories were connected to it. He sighed gloomily. No need to uproot them. Glancing over at the foliage, his gaze immediately hardened again. He had a monster to take care of.

He slowly moved through the path of bushes, now knowing for certain that at its end, the beast was hiding. He wasn't too sure on why it had been so frantic, but he didn't honestly care.

About halfway to the wall of leaves, he began to hear a chilling noise. The sound of breathing- and it wasn't his own. It was oddly patterned- not slow and steady like it should've been. Irregular sharp intakes of air, combined with shorter quick breaths that seemed extremely unusual. Probably fear. He reached the tangle of bushes, and it became louder than before. Yep. The Pokemon was definitely just beyond.

He gritted his teeth, feeling his heartbeat speed up drastically. He felt his courage begin to wither away. Could he really do this? What if it got to him first? What if-

"No! I won't do this to myself! I am going to stab the beast and kill it, and avenge my mother. No need for this wimpy business!" Ash hissed quietly. He unsheathed his blade of glass- and lunged through the bushes.

What he saw ground him to a complete stop.

It was the Pokemon, alright. Every bit of it that he remembered. The sleek outline, the scarf flapping in the wind- but it didn't look particularly frightening at all. If anything, it was a piteous sight.

How could anything look scary with an axe sticking out of its stomach and a heavy net pinning it to the ground?

He swallowed painfully, backing up towards the wall of foliage again. This wasn't like the Pokemon he was used to killing- or watching his father kill. The deaths he experienced were always quick and usually painless. Sure, a few seconds of frantic thrashing, but then they fell limp with their eyes frozen wide.

He peered hesitantly at the creature, feeling his bravery return in a quick burst. It couldn't hurt him. It would be an easy kill. He gripped his blade tighter and moved forward to the helpless Pokemon.

Up close, he realized many things that he had not noticed before. It was a slim animal, definitely resembling a frog, with wide-webbed feet and dark blue skin. White spots dotted its knees and elbows, and smaller ones were located above each of its eyes.

It was curled up in the fetal position, a yellow-tinged axe he knew well sunk about a foot deep into its gut. The wood handle was stuck deep into the dirt, snared by roots and soil. It had most likely fallen down and jabbed the axe deeper into its own stomach. A net with metal balls at every end had also fallen over it, wrapping its limbs up tightly against its flanks. It was completely still, eyes shut tightly. The only thing that moved at all was its chest- the irregular breathing sound was coming from it. It was alive, but definitely dying. Nothing survived a wound like that- nothing!

Ash's face flickered over with pain and anger.

"This is for my mom, you evil Pokemon!" he hollered, holding the glass shard in both hands and bringing it high above his head.

The frog-like beast made a soft noise in the back of its throat- almost like a whimper. The boy hesitated, his glance softening slightly. He couldn't kill such a helpless animal! It... it wasn't right. He wasn't the one who inflicted such a devastating wound- his father had. He wouldn't truly have avenged his mother if he killed it now.

But that didn't mean he didn't want to destroy it anyways. Why not? It had done nothing but kill humans and destroy the village he loved. It had slaughtered his mother without any pity, and dug its stupid throwing stars deep into the heads of many others too. It was a mindless killing machine.

The glass shard came down, whistling through the air as it cut a straight path towards the frog.

 _Crack!_

The wooden handle of Thunder Blade groaned underneath the force of the shattered glass, and a web of cracks appeared in it. Ash grimaced as he snapped it off, leaving the metal blade inside of its stomach. He took the largest piece of remaining glass and cut away the fibrous ropes as quickly as he could. Then he leaned back on the balls of his feet and sucked his teeth slightly.

"There. You're free," he muttered.

"NIN-JAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

Ash screamed in fear as the Pokemon lunged forward, grabbing him by both shoulders and pinning him to the ground. The creature was shockingly heavy for such a slim figure, and it used its back feet to keep his legs from kicking. He was completely immobile.

The Pokemon's eyes were a deep shade of red, reflecting cold fury. It leaned forward slightly, coming face-to-face with the terrified young boy. Its pointed nose flared, sending a hot blast of air straight into Ash's face. He whimpered feebly and shut his eyes, expecting the worse.

Hours seemed to pass before he opened them again. The creature's face was no longer the same. It hadn't lost its anger, but something else shone there too. Confusion.

It growled softly, and released its grip on him. It then stood, stumbled, and began to sink lower to the ground. Ash watched in silent horror as it fell to all fours, and then leapt an astounding distance over him, landing in a tree. The oak shook under its weight, and it lunged towards another one. It missed, smashing into the trunk and falling to the ground. It veered again, hopping in slow motion in some other direction. Seeing the boy stand up, however, it immediately shot off- falling right over the cliff and spiraling out of sight towards the beach below.

Ash blinked once, twice, and then collapsed in a dead faint.


End file.
